


two-fold silence of body and soul

by hellchoirs



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24936865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellchoirs/pseuds/hellchoirs
Summary: Number Four watched as Pogo guided Three into the office with himself and Reginald."Should I tell her?" He asked, looking at his father as he wandered to Three's side and nudged her forwards. Three blinked at him with wide, soft eyes, and looked back at their father, hesitant. Reginald nodded, a small movement, once, and then Three said;"I heard a rumour that you can't talk." A pause as her words seeped into his bones; into his blood; into his soul. "Ever again."And Four never did. And Seven still thought she was ordinary.
Comments: 56
Kudos: 350





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Klaus can see ghosts, just coincidentally not the ghosts of the nannies his 'powerless' sibling killed that would no doubt be upset to hear Reginald covering up said powers? Hmm...  
> Time to change that.

It has taken Number Four a year for his father to take him seriously. Twelve months of insistent pleading and begging and whining and a couple of temper tantrums at not being taken seriously for such a thing that he deemed one of the most important things they currently have going on.

Because Number Seven thought she was ordinary. Number Seven thought she had no powers.

Four has no idea where this came from. She was sick, a while ago; had to be taken elsewhere, and no one could visit her because she was sick and contagious, but then she came back and she thought she was ordinary. It was odd, because they all knew she wasn’t, but Father knew best and maybe she didn’t have powers anymore because she was sick, but, no- that’s not the case. Because everyone is acting as if she never had powers to begin with.

Four might be inclined to believe that; their private training was just that; private, so he never actually got to see Seven’s powers, but there are multiple ghosts who insist the opposite. He didn't like to imagine that his sister killed them all, but he’s sure she didn’t mean to. One has accidentally hurt people because of his own powers too, but it was always an accident.

It took Four a year of telling his siblings, telling Seven herself, and telling Pogo and Grace about the ghosts and the miraculous news that Seven does actually have powers, for Reginald to actually talk to him about it.

Just past their bedtime, Grace came into his room; Father wanted to talk to him. Of course he was excited to see his father, and this meant Grace didn’t even gently scold him for not being in bed because he was instead talking to Dorothy, one of the nicer dead nannies- she told him, through wheezing breaths, that she used to look after him too, before she had to look after Seven. She led him to Reginald’s grand office, and his father told him to sit up on one of the big chairs opposite his even bigger desk and to wait.

“Is this about Seven?” He asked, playing with his pyjama shirt. “I’ve been telling you!”

“Tell me one more time, Number Four,” asked his father, and Four perked up; finally, he was being listened to.

“Nannies Dorothy, Vickie and ‘Becca are ghosts and they told me that Seven did it to them- they say you’re lying when you say she doesn’t have any powers. She used her powers to- uh. Kill them- accidentally! She’s not bad! But it’s good, she has powers!” He exclaims. “Do you believe me, Daddy? I’m telling the truth.”

Reginald hummed his acknowledgement and turned to watch the office doors open. Grace was there again, now accompanied by Pogo and Number Three. Reginald rose to his feet and rounded his desk, turning his attention to his sister.

A little confused, Four asked: “Should I tell her too?”

Reginald said something that Four couldn’t quite catch from where he sat, so he simply waited patiently, swinging his legs over the edge of the big chair and looked to the ghosts of the nannies who had been telling him this for months, and they all nodded encouragingly; Dorothy smiled softly with blue lips, though the smile faded when Reginald and Three came closer.

“Daddy?” He asked, looking between the two. Reginald rested a hand on Three’s back and nudged her closer to him. He watched Three give a final glance to their father before looking back at him with wide, soft eyes and she spoke.

“I heard a rumour that you couldn’t talk.” A pause as her words seeped into his bones; into his blood; into his soul. Everything except her voice seemed to cease to exist and he couldn’t do anything but sit there and listen. “Ever again.” Another pause, and Four felt dizzy; felt his tongue die in his throat, and then Three continued again. “I heard a rumour that you couldn’t tell anyone about Seven’s powers.”

It took him several moments to come back from Three’s powers as her grip on him receded, taking with it the lock around his lips; his vocal chords. Confused, he looked to Reginald, opened his mouth, and- nothing came out. Not a single sound. 

Nanny Dorothy burst into tears. By the door, Grace twitched as she watched him copy Dorothy and try desperately to ask for help. 

Klaus couldn’t talk. It was as simple as that. According to Grace, and Pogo, and Reginald the one time his father had actually deigned to talk to him about it, Klaus had simply stopped talking as a child and never started again. As far as he was aware now, though; he couldn’t even if he wanted to. He had no idea how to even do it anymore, considering the last time he’d ever said something was way before his earliest memory.

He’d gotten used to it, even if it wasn’t ideal; even if his lack of a voice made him easy to be overlooked and ignored; hard to work well with in a team. It wasn’t his siblings fault, he knew, and they did their best to accommodate him, but as they got older and distanced themselves from one another, it became all too easy to ignore Klaus by simply not looking at his hands as he signed or not reading what he wrote.

Which was fine. Klaus left the Academy early; hardly saw his siblings much after that. He didn’t need his voice to get drugs or to seduce people- if anything, they loved the challenge of getting a noise out of him- and he could talk to Ben in sign language, when he wasn’t being an ass.   
Though, perhaps if he ever tried to learn to talk again, Klaus might have asked why they insisted Grace was the only nanny- mother- they ever had. He could see the others, the ones that watched him with sad, desperate eyes.

Not that it mattered much either, though. He hadn’t seen them since he started drinking when he was nine, and by the time he came back to the Academy at twenty-nine, he had all but forgotten about them. 

He just wished his head would stop buzzing whenever he thought too hard about it all, or whenever taunting memories strayed just out of his reach, or whenever he stared too long at Vanya the few times he ever actually saw her after he left the Academy. He just wished that feeling didn’t come back when he returned for the funeral. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear any feedback or comments on this, if you have any:)


	2. Chapter 2

To come back to life in the back of an ambulance and the first thing to greet him be his own father’s face on the little television in said ambulance; Klaus feared for a moment he was still dead and had gone to Hell. Not that Hell necessarily scared Klaus; he doubted much could be worse than the Academy, though if Hell were to exist he supposed it would be his childhood home, only with no doors or windows to get out of, and a copy of his father in every single room, and every single hallway led to the mausoleum.

The next thing Klaus thought was that he was still dead and had gone to Heaven, because the news was telling him Reginald was dead. Had he not still been adjusting himself back to the land of the living, he might have just kissed the paramedic in pure joy rather than just high-fiving him.

He arrived to the hospital, grinned sweetly at the familiar nurse who just sighed at the sight of him and told him that there was a front door he could use rather than the window this time, and then he used the window to make his grand escape as soon as she left the room, leaving behind the dreaded hospital, and back out onto the streets.

“So, are you gonna go back for the funeral?” Asked Ben, following him down the dim streets. Klaus gave his favoured brother a look.

 _Money,_ he signed, followed by a _duh_ expression. He might hate going back to the Academy; it might make his skin crawl and make him feel all anxious and tense, but without the chance of running into Reginald? It would be just fine- if he just ignored the undeniable traumatic memories that would undoubtedly resurface, being back there. Other than that, however, he would be a fool not to leap on the chance to wring his inheritance out of his father’s corpse. He would never run out of cocaine again- the good stuff, too.

Sure, he’d have to deal with his family, but that was just the price he had to pay for a few million dollars and one of the undoubtedly many estates or properties his father had across the world, hopefully.

Maybe that was being a bit hopeful.

Klaus- he didn’t hate his family. Well, not really. He hated them in the way one could hate their own family at the same time as loving them. He cared about them, but they were all insufferable, selfish idiots; and so was he, so he wasn’t going to judge them for this. But not a single one of them really got on, besides himself and Ben (and even that was up for debate sometimes) and perhaps Allison and Luther, but that was a relationship Klaus didn’t want to look too closely at.

Just, what was to come of raising six- seven- children in a horrifically abusive and neglectful and competitive environment that ended up with one gruesome death, one disappearance, and trauma to support the therapy industry of the country for multiple lifetimes? Emotions weren’t anyone’s power, nor were any of them particularly good at dealing with their own, let alone attempting to understand one another’s.

They weren’t- malicious to one another. They didn’t wish harm on one another. They just couldn’t be in a room with one another without an argument starting because once, they were siblings, but now they were virtually strangers.

Klaus thought that, in terms of living siblings, he might be closest to Five. But this was going off of a relationship at thirteen years old, before things got really, really bad, and were just kind of bad most of the time but not all of the time. Ben would say that was cheating, because Five wasn’t around; so in terms of living, present siblings, he might say that he was closest to Diego.

Diego hated the drugs and the parties and all of the shit he got into, of course, but no matter how much Diego hated it, he would always be there to pick his scrawny ass up off the floor, fight anyone staring at him wrong, saying anything bad or trying to hurt him, and even if he knew Klaus would steal the contents of his wallet before he left, he would sometimes let Klaus stay a night in his place. Sometimes he’d buy him food, if he looked bad enough. They argued a lot, of course, but nonetheless Diego was the kindest to him out of the siblings; acted the most normal to him, too.

Being mute was not such a big thing to Klaus; he had been virtually his entire life, and it was just how things were, as far as he was considered. He’d wanted to learn how to talk again a few times when he was younger, of course, but they didn’t have the time to teach him at the Academy and he couldn’t do it himself; and outside of the Academy he was too busy being homeless and keeping a steady supply of drugs coming his way to focus too much about speech, especially when he didn’t necessarily need it.

It made things outside of the Academy harder than they needed to be, of course. Arrests were painful until there was someone who knew sign language there, or someone competent enough to at least give him a pen and paper. Relationships were hard, not only because Klaus dated people who weren’t exactly good boyfriend or girlfriend material, but because eventually they got frustrated when they realised that Klaus, very literally, could not (or, in their heads, _would_ not) say a single word, and they weren’t patient enough to accept this. Not that Klaus ever got in a relationship to remain in a committed relationship, so again, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to care much about that.

His hook-ups and dealers seemed to enjoy it, though; liked the challenge of getting a noise out of him. And he could make noises; he just couldn’t make words, or sounds that got too close to resembling a word. He could grunt and groan and moan and whine and cry and scream and babble, but he couldn’t communicate coherently with words.

He learned sign language as a kid in place of it- all of them did- since he seemed to accept communicating that way, but simply rejected actually talking in itself, and he was fine to use that to communicate with his siblings and whoever else understood that, but growing up unable to voice his opinions presented several problems.

It was incredibly easy for his siblings to ignore him.

If they had an argument, they could simply walk away; refuse to look at his hands as he signed, refuse to listen to him. If they didn’t like what he was saying, they could simply ignore him; and Klaus could do absolutely nothing about it. It was more of a problem when they were teenagers, always butting heads on everything, bitter about Five’s disappearance and Ben’s death and Klaus’ drug addiction, falling apart at the seams, but Ben was the only one to ever end up actually apologising for them doing it, though Ben, he can’t remember, ever actually did that himself; Ben was too kind. They might not have been close when he was alive, but he wouldn’t shut Klaus out like that.

Leaving the Academy was freeing. He didn’t need to talk to be paid attention to. People liked him nonetheless and never really paid much attention to his lack of speech, really. A few people would stop flirting once they realised he couldn’t verbally return it, but he could go out and feel as if he was seen and heard and appreciated, and after arguments with his siblings that ended up with him being point-blank ignored, it was exhilarating to go out into clubs and parties and raves. He wouldn’t say being ignored was a driving factor to get him to leave- he definitely left that blame entirely on Reginald and the ghosts and the fallout after Ben’s death- but he can’t deny that it might have influenced him leaving earlier than he otherwise might have.

 _Think they’ll listen to me say a few words?_ He asked Ben, quirking an eyebrow, and Ben snorted.

“Depends what those words are,” he said. “But I don’t know if they understand ‘bastard’ in sign language.”

Klaus pouted at him before continuing on his way down the street. Of course he would go to the funeral, just to watch the mess it would undoubtedly be, but first he had more pressing matters.

“Klaus, you just got out of hospital,” said Ben as he approached an alleyway, and Klaus gave him a sad look.

 _Dying leaves me horrifically sober, brother,_ he signed, trying to imitate the appearance of a kicked puppy, but Ben was never won over by his little acts. He fell quiet as Klaus approached a familiar dealer, greeting him with a Cheshire grin and open arms. He planted a kiss to the man’s cheek before pulling back and fishing around in his pants for the last of his money and holding it out in one hand, cupping the other in the air.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show again,” said the dealer, looking Klaus up and down. Fingers plucked the money from his grasp, counted it out, and replaced it with a baggy of pills and a larger baggy of weed. Things that gave him a lighter high, because although he might not dare stepping into the Academy while sober, he couldn’t be bothered showing up and trying to navigate a funeral after a few lines. At least he could still function on these.

Almost immediately he set about making joints out of the weed he had, stuffing them inside his half-empty cigarette pack for storage, all ready to smoke whenever he wanted, and he lit one up and held it between his lips.

“You’ve not eaten in a while,” commented Ben, “have you got any money left over?”

Klaus pulled out three dollars. Ben sighed, lips pursed. “Alright. Okay. You could get something from a fast food place, maybe. Something small, but… still something.”

 _Seven more and I can get more weed,_ Klaus replied, eyebrows raised, and Ben gave him another unimpressed look so Klaus waved him off. _We can bribe Diego into getting us food. Me food. Or Mom._

At least that actually made Ben pause. “Mom could make you a proper meal,” he said, nodding, “for once, you have a good idea.”

 _I have plenty of good ideas,_ he retorted, pausing to lean against a nearby wall as the initial hit of his high made him pause and adjust to the feeling of his legs, and then he carried on down the street and finished the rest of his joint.

“For some reason, I don’t believe that,” muttered his brother, but he seemed pleased when Klaus wandered into the nearest McDonald’s and ordered the cheapest burger on the menu, and sat down on the pavement outside to eat it.

“Guess we’ll kick around the Academy until the funeral, then?” Asked Ben, sitting down beside him, and Klaus shrugged.

_Dumpster in the alley?_

“There’s one, yeah. You missed the shelter curfew tonight, by the way.”

Klaus waved his comment off, picking the pickles off his burger and chucking them aside, only for them to disappear a moment later in the hands of a few rats.

“You do know that Pogo’s not going to give you money if you’re high,” he said, and Klaus gave him a short glare. He knew that, but if it was his money, what could he do about it? If nothing else, Klaus would just have to raid the Academy of all its valuables- the ones he hadn’t already stolen- and pawn them until he got given his money.

He didn’t know exactly when the funeral would be, and if all of his siblings would actually come attend it, but he didn’t think there was any harm in going in earlier- he could use one of the many bathrooms to actually have a bath or shower, actually clean up properly than using a sink in a public bathroom like he had resorted to the past few days, and maybe weasel a meal or two out of Grace as well, and he’d have time to try and emotionally prepare himself to see the others as best he could.

Finishing his burger, Klaus rose to his feet and, with a plan in mind, began to wander in the direction of the Academy- or, more accurately, the dumpster outside of it, to hopefully get a few hours of restful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Everyone's Still Kind Of A Dick And Klaus Is Still Kind Of Fed Up With It, But Hey Ho.  
> Also, I'm aware that grammar and such is different in sign language, but for the sake of dialogue, I've written it the same as spoken, and I don't mean to offend anyone in doing so.  
> If you have any comments, I'd love to hear them:)


	3. Chapter 3

Klaus was impressed at how he managed to dodge Pogo, Grace, and Luther when he returned to the academy, and he was hardly even trying. Not that it was overly hard to dodge Luther; his brother was not the quietest of people and he could be heard coming from a mile away, so Klaus had plenty of time to duck out of his way before he could be seen. He was, of course, the first of the others to arrive, considering he had spent the morning in the alleyway outside of the academy until he decided it was an acceptable time for him to head on in and use one of the many unused bathrooms deeper into the maze that was the academy to freshen up. 

Ben had left him a while ago with the chance to explore their childhood home again, though Klaus wasn’t sure why Ben would ever want to do such a thing, and was likely just twirling his thumbs as he waited for everyone else to return so they could start the mess that was to be the funeral, and Klaus too was making good use of his time until then.

Reginald’s office was a goldmine for expensive valuables. He had about eight trophies and ornaments tucked into his coat pockets, one fancy box pressed against his back, and one watch tucked into his shoe, and was looking for more when he was finally found; surprisingly, first by Allison.

He gasped when she entered the room and scrabbled onto his feet, feigning nonchalance and waving both hands at her, before slapping his hands against his cheeks and dropping his jaw open. Hurriedly, he signed, _Allison Hargreeves? Can I have an autograph?_

Allison chuckled softly as he approached, expression a mix of amused, fond and exasperated, and so Klaus skipped forwards to pull her into a hug, albeit a rather awkward and very brief one. 

“Hi, Klaus,” she said, patting his arm. “How have you been?” She asked, looking him up and down, and then her hand ran down his arm to his wrist. “Just out of rehab?”

Klaus raised his eyebrows, staring at the hospital band around his wrist and then waved her off, pulling himself away from her grasp and shoving the band up his arm and beneath the sleeve of his coat. _No, no, no, done with that,_ he dismissed. Allison brought her gaze up from his hands to his eyes and quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, but she didn’t comment on it so Klaus decided to steamroll his way through it. He gestured around the office.

_Had to see for myself he was gone! He is! If he was here, I would have been kicked out already._

Allison snorted at that, watching Klaus flop down onto Reginald’s large desk chair and kick his feet up onto his desk, sending a few items clattering to the floor. The box he had stolen dug into his back and he had to press his hand against it to keep it from falling to the floor. He’d sewn multiple pockets onto the inside of this jacket for purposes exactly like this, although he’d never thought he’d have to stuff a whole box into it. He’d have to keep that in mind for the next jacket; make one bigger.

Allison began to look around the office a little, her eyes constantly flitting back to him to watch out for him saying anything. When he did begin to sign again, she paused what she was doing to pay attention to him, which was a relief.

 _No more scowl_ , he said, and pointed up at the portrait of their father hanging on the wall behind him, _no more cold, dead eyes, and-_

“Klaus, get out of his chair.”

Klaus froze, hands mid-sign as his eyes swam across the room to Luther, now standing just by the door and staring at him. He blinked, glanced back at Allison and then at Ben, who wore what he assumed was probably a similar expression to his own.

“Shit,” muttered Ben, and Klaus slid slowly to his feet, raised his eyebrows, and then exhaled slowly and flexed his muscles. Luther gave him an unimpressed look, so Klaus waved him off.

 _I’m going_ , he signed, rolling his eyes, _save the lecture._

Just before he could reach the door however, Luther shot out a hand to stop him from going outside. “Drop it,” he said. Klaus raised his eyebrows again, feigning innocence, and shrugged, but Luther was unrelenting.

With a quiet growl, he swept himself a few steps away from his brother and began to empty out his pockets, throwing everything out onto the floor, except for the box still hidden in his coat and the watch in his boot. Luckily, though, Luther didn’t seem to be aware of those and he let him slip outside unbothered this time.

As soon as the door closed behind him and it didn’t seem that either of them were going to follow him out, Klaus pulled the fancy box from its hiding place, pressed a kiss to it, and then hurried to hide it in his childhood bedroom to retrieve after the funeral.

  
His siblings bedrooms turned out to not have much in them, either. The only thing of value he found was the skirt in Allison’s room that he decided to borrow for the day. He’s sure she wouldn’t miss it, anyway. 

Once everyone has arrived comes time for him to find his way down to the living room where everyone else is in varying stages of irritation at one another already, so Klaus bypassed them all for the bar, already with a cigarette perched between his lips and a trophy in his hand to tap the ash off into. Finally, balancing a glass of whiskey between his wrist and his stomach, he turned his attention to whatever it was Luther was saying about the whole situation.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have. Barely two minutes after he sat down, and Luther turned his attention to him.

“I need you to conjure Dad,” he requested, and he heard Allison let out a little snort into her own glass. Klaus raised his eyebrows, balanced his whiskey on his lap, and waved him off.

“Klaus, this is important,” his brother insisted, and Klaus thought about the nicest way to tell him that he couldn’t, nor would he even if he could.

 _I can’t just do that,_ he signed, pleased to see Luther’s gaze, and everyone else’s, move down to his hands. _I can’t just call Dad in Hell and ask him to stop playing tennis with Hitler and-_

And Luther wasn’t looking at his hands anymore. “Why not?” He asked, cutting him off, and Klaus rolled his eyes as familiar irritation curled up in his stomach. Not that he was unfamiliar with being interrupted; his siblings often times wouldn’t wait for him to finish what he was saying, as if his signs were something they could just opt out of; something they could ignore; as if they weren’t as important or didn’t hold the real weight of his opinion or voice just because they weren’t said verbally. Klaus wouldn’t be surprised if Luther didn’t translate past the first two words. 

_I can’t!_ He signed quickly, giving his brother an exaggerated look.

“Are you high?” Asked Allison, eyes narrowing slightly and bouncing towards where she saw the band on his wrist earlier. Klaus let out a huff of air in a laugh and gestured to their sister, nodding enthusiastically and garnering a chorus of scoffs and eye-rolls from everyone else. 

_How are you not? With all this-_ he stopped, hands frozen in the air as he realised no one was looking at him again, and so he rolled his eyes to himself and slumped back into the couch with enough force to spill some whiskey across his lap. He took a drag of his cigarette and followed it down with a swig of liquor, half-heartedly listening to Luther as he moved on from Klaus and to other topics concerning the death of their father. 

It was safe to say that his brother was still brainwashed by their father. Klaus was not surprised by that, but he hadn’t ever thought Reginald’s grip on Luther would be so strong as to make him consider his siblings murdering him. 

Klaus was not high enough for this, and he was quick to rectify that by throwing back a few pills that made the world feel a bit as if he was under water, which is all fine until it left him wondering whether or not Five in front of him was a hallucination. Apparently not, and he wasn’t even a ghost either, because everyone could see him too. 

Klaus was almost jealous; Five’s entrance was dramatic and incredibly well timed on the day of their father’s funeral, and it left them all reeling, but it was nonetheless an incredible entrance, followed by his incredible nonchalance. As everyone bombarded him with questions, Five simply focused on making himself some food.

“You’d think he’d be a little more… talkative,” commented Ben, eyebrows raised. Klaus simply shrugged, watching as Five finally looked up at them all and then at Klaus. 

“Nice skirt,” he complimented, and Klaus sat up a little, fiddling with his skirt.

 _Thank you_ , he signed, and Five bobbed his head in a nod.

“No problem,” he replied, then turned his attention back to his food, only for everyone to begin questioning him all over again. If Klaus could focus enough through the high still keeping his mind pleasantly fuzzy and the ghosts perfectly silent, he might be inclined to pay more attention, but as it was; he wasn’t. Plus, if he had anything to say he was sure he would get overlooked in favour by the way his siblings raised their voices and demanded answers of their own, so he simply sat there and watched Five. It was extremely interesting to see how nonchalant his brother was after being away for so long, especially when he claimed even longer. 

“I think he’s hiding something,” declared Ben, watching him leave, and Klaus pointed at him in agreement. Allison gave him an odd look, glanced at the wall behind Ben, and didn’t say anything. Five was definitely hiding something, but they were busy with the funeral first.

It went about as well as any of them could have expected, although, admittedly, he hadn’t anticipated Ben’s statue being broken. Not that Klaus tried to stop them; he had stood on the side lines and clapped to encourage the fight. 

He was almost impressed at how- horrific the funeral went. Almost, simply for the shock factor of Five’s return, but everything else had gone about just as he had expected. Following the funeral everyone began to disperse once more; Luther retreated to his room quickly and Klaus didn’t see him again after that, and Vanya left almost immediately, much to Allison’s dismay. He still kicked around partly just to see what might happen and partly to talk to Five, although it didn’t seem as if his brother was about to expand on his whole- situation- anymore that night. He did linger around the kitchen as if he wanted to talk, and Klaus took the chance to talk to him a little.

 _Looking good for fifty-eight_ , Klaus commented, leaning forwards to watch Five scowl at an empty mug, only to then scowl at Klaus.

“I already told you what happened with my body,” he said, mildly irritated, and Klaus rolled his eyes.

_I know, but I was complimenting you._

“Well, try harder next time.”

 _Next time?_ Klaus quirked his eyebrows. _Are we going to hang out? Like the good old times? Maybe pop to Griddy’s, eat enough donuts that we puke again? Hey! Benefit of being thirteen again- ypu get to do it all over again._

Surprisingly, Five didn’t interrupt him once, and as soon as Klaus was done he gave him an unimpressed look rather than spending a few moments trying to keep up and translate everything. “I don’t think so,” he said, putting his mug onto the table, “I have important things to do.”

“Hmm?” Klaus hummed, inching closer.

“That interesting enough to garner a sound?” Commented Five jokingly, and Klaus flashed a sharp grin.

 _Still verbally limited to babbling, if you want to hear that,_ he offered, and Five scoffed.

“That’s all you do anyway,” he muttered, and Klaus’ jaw dropped in feigned shock. He was sure he saw Five’s lips twitch upwards briefly. 

_Bastard_ , signed Klaus, quick and sharp, and Five frowned.

“I don’t know that one,” he admitted, his voice a little quieter. Klaus pursed his lips, sharing a look with Ben, and then he looked around the room. It took him a moment before he managed to find a pen, tore a bit of blank paper and then returned to Five’s side to write out the word. Five snorted, rolling his eyes, and then gestured at him. “Say it again, then,” he requested, and so Klaus repeated it a couple of times before Five nodded, seemingly already memorising it.

The encounter left Klaus feeling oddly happy, almost, having both been able to talk to his brother again and notice he was still making attempts to keep up with his sign language enough to be able to understand Klaus’ cursing perfectly. It was a little thing, but Klaus appreciated it even if he didn’t say anything about it. 

Afterwards however, Klaus was left simply biding his time and waiting for something to happen. His opportunity came when he found Diego just about to leave and Ben reminded him about the fact that the last thing he had eaten was some greasy burger from McDonald’s, and so he hurried to follow after Diego.

“No,” he said immediately, and Klaus pouted, smacking his chest until Diego looked at him. 

_I didn’t say anything!_ He defended, frowning. Diego stopped a few paces from the door to give him a look.

“You’re not coming with me,” he stated, and so Klaus turned his expression into one of his many puppy dog faces, although he knew Diego couldn’t care less about that. If he relented to Klaus’ requests it wasn’t due to any soft expressions but simply because Klaus was his favourite sibling (and he refused to accept any other answer) and he had a soft spot for him. 

_I’ll just grab my things, yeah?_ He signed with a hopeful grin, slipping back a step, and he watched the conflict on Diego’s face before his shoulders fell.

“Whatever,” muttered his brother, and although he continued out in the direction of the door Klaus knew he won, so long as he was quick. He clapped his hands together in victory before turning and racing back upstairs, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, and hurried to change into his pants from earlier- he liked the skirt, but Klaus knew that the likelihood of getting indoors early for himself was slim and he would prefer to skip the early stages of hypothermia- and grabbed the prized treasure he still had from Reginald’s office, ensuring it was secure in the pocket in his coat, and then he raced outside. He took a brief moment by the dumpster to pry open the box he had stolen, dumping all of the invaluable contents into it, leaving him just with a pristine, expensive box, and then he hurried to Diego who was already in his car and starting it up.

Before his brother could make his escape, Klaus grabbed the handle of one of the doors and threw himself into the backseat. Ben joined him, although a lot more gracefully, and sat at the other window and looked out among the street as Klaus shuffled forwards. He clapped his hands on Diego’s shoulder, made sure he was looking in the mirror, and began to sign again.

_Food? I think we should get some food._

Diego exhaled slowly, looking mildly irritated by Klaus’ presence- Klaus knew better than that, though, he’s sure Diego missed him- and bobbed his head in a numb nod. Satisfied, Klaus sunk back into the chair and relaxed as Diego began to drive away.

Diego was less likely to cut him off when he was talking, or straight-out ignore him unless he was being petty and they’d had an argument, although if that was the case then Klaus was often also ignoring him or only responding with a middle finger, and he seemed more consistent in sign language than the others. 

It was not a nice idea, to think his other siblings had happily allowed themselves to simply forget sign language even if they hadn’t spoken to Klaus in many years, because it was his main, and one of his only, ways of communicating. If they allowed themselves to forget it and never relearned it then Klaus was effectively shut out of any conversations; his opinions disregarded; simply shut out. He was aware of the pause between Allison listening to him and then responding; seen the furrowed brows of concentration when they watched his hands, and the willingness to not listen to his run-on comments when they got quick or confusing. It did hurt, a little. But if nothing else, Ben was as fluent as himself, and Diego seemed perfectly fine with it. Hell, even Five didn’t miss a beat in his responses and had been eager to immediately learn what he didn’t know, and he hadn’t seen Klaus in decades, apparently.

 _What are you feeling?_ He asked Ben, lips pursed in thought, _eggs? Pancakes? No, not a good time for pancakes? Sushi?_

“I can’t eat, Klaus.”

 _I’m being thoughtful, dickhead_ , said Klaus, giving him a look, _make a decision_.

Ben rolled his eyes at him and then shrugged helplessly. With a sigh, Klaus turned his own gaze out of the window, thinking over the many food options he could con Diego out of when Diego came to a random stop that was most definitely nowhere near any diners. He leaned forwards, ready to ask just why his brother had taken him to this random place, but Diego was already getting out the car and heading towards the edge of the path by the river. 

Ben gave him just as a confused look as he wore, but Klaus simply waited for Diego to get back from brooding and throwing trash into the lake so he could announce his final decision for food. He hit Diego’s shoulder as he came back, and announced;

_We’ve decided on waffles, let’s go._

“Yeah, no, I’ve got stuff to do,” Diego stated, starting the car back up, “I’m dropping you off at the bus station.”

Klaus’ jaw dropped a little and then he pouted. So much for weaselling anything out of him, then. Come on, he whined, exaggerating his facial expression to make up for a whining tone, and Diego just resolutely shook his head. Most of the time Diego was easy to con things out of, food especially, but he could also tell when Diego had put his foot down and unfortunately it seemed that this was one of those moments. 

Sinking down into the backseat, Klaus pouted all the way to the bus station. 

If nothing else, at least he had the box that he could pawn, although none of that money he intended to spend on waffles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear any thoughts or feedback, and I'm always open to any tips on writing the siblings better!  
> Thank you for reading:)


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